Best Albums I Listened To
-Bon Iver—Bon Iver
-Iron & Wine—Kiss Each Other Clean
-Fleet Foxes—Helplessness Blues
-The Decemberists—The King is Dead
-The Civil Wars—Barton Hollow
-Radical Face—The Family Tree
-Black Keys—El Camino
-Blind Pilot—We are the Tide
-Paste Magazine’s Compilation of Free Christmas Music (not an album, but free, and Christmasy)
Best Books I Read (Limited to First-Time Reads)
-Best American Non-required Reading 2010
-The Raw Shark Texts
-Cold Mountain
-The Places In Between
-The Tiger’s Wife
-Johnny Cash’s autobiography
-The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao
-The Greater Journey: Americans in Paris
-Black Garden
Best TV and Movies (Incomplete due to Poor Memory):
-Midnight in Paris
-The Wire
-X-Men: First Class
-Homeland
-The Social Network
-Tron: Legacy (Almost Exclusively for the Soundtrack Award)
-Sherlock (BBC)
-Doctor Who Season Six
-Vacations in the Danger Zone—Nagorno-Karabagh region
Best and Only Trips (International):
-Scotland
-Istanbul
-Assume that trip back to the US fits here as well
Best Trips (National):
-Camping in Oguz (despite the rain and leaky tents)
-Evaluation Meeting in Sheki at the Sheki Saray Hotel
-Multiple Lahic trips (with PCVs, family, girlfriend, more PCVs)
-ABLE camp in Qabala, Training of Trainers at the campsite in advance
-Halloween in Barda
-Thanksgiving in Baku
Favorite Projects:
-ABLE
-Sheki Sumemr Camp
-Softball
-FLEX Preparation (Despite temporary failure)
-(Pending) Theater Club
-(Pending) Mural Exchange Program with Japanese School
Favorite New Hobby:
-Watercolor Painting
-Cooking (at least during the summer)
Saddest Moment:
-Burying a puppy
Happiest Moments:
-Weekends in Tezekend with sitemates escaping from daily life, but not the cold
-Playing with a new puppy (slightly less happy—serving as her chew toy)
-Welcoming my family, my girlfriend to Azerbaijan and to Ismayilli, and exploring Istanbul
-A student coming back from summer camp determined to try to apply for FLEX
-Justifying playing Christmas music early because of snow in early November
-Eating homemade birthday cake made by my host mother
Funniest Moments:
-Coaxing a stray dog into the cabin of the other PCVs during ABLE
-Being pelted with water balloons in the middle of the night in retaliation
-Having a dog that likes to perch on my shoulders like a mountain goat
-Speaking to my host brother about college life in America from Azerbaijan
Monday, December 19, 2011
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Twenty Years Ago Today
Two decades ago, the Soviet Union was dissolved by a group of people in Belarus. Azerbaijan had declared independence several months earlier, but even today, the ties with Russia are important to many Azeris. In fact, they hold very powerful memories of the time period Azerbaijan spent as a member of the USSR. Many yearn for the days when employment was higher, and life was better.
An expert on the region, Thomas de Waal, who wrote a strong book on the topic of the conflict that has frozen Azerbaijan's politics for a number of years (in fact since before the fall of the Soviet Union), has recently weighed in on the progress the Caucasus countries have made in these past twenty years. It has not been an easy twenty years, but progress has been made in some ways, and setbacks have come in other areas.
Here's Thomas de Waal's article:
http://carnegieendowment.org/2011/11/27/south-caucasus-almost-grown-up-at-20/7tqy
In another interview, he also makes a wonderful analysis of The Butter Battle Book, by Dr Seuss, comparing it to the Caucasian conflict. It's on page 2 of the link.
http://thebrowser.com/interviews/thomas-de-waal-on-conflict-caucasus?page=1
An expert on the region, Thomas de Waal, who wrote a strong book on the topic of the conflict that has frozen Azerbaijan's politics for a number of years (in fact since before the fall of the Soviet Union), has recently weighed in on the progress the Caucasus countries have made in these past twenty years. It has not been an easy twenty years, but progress has been made in some ways, and setbacks have come in other areas.
Here's Thomas de Waal's article:
http://carnegieendowment.org/2011/11/27/south-caucasus-almost-grown-up-at-20/7tqy
In another interview, he also makes a wonderful analysis of The Butter Battle Book, by Dr Seuss, comparing it to the Caucasian conflict. It's on page 2 of the link.
http://thebrowser.com/interviews/thomas-de-waal-on-conflict-caucasus?page=1
One Year In
September marked the anniversary of our arrival in Azerbaijan, but this week I’ll have been in Ismayilli for one year. I’m going to try and keep this from becoming one of those “so much has changed, so little has changed” posts, but it’s worth noting that a lot has changed in the past year, while at the same time, it feels like no time has passed at all. One of my site mates has moved on, and is currently traveling the world before he eventually returns home. The new group of volunteers, the AZ9s, has finished their training and is preparing to move to their permanent sites (a huge congratulations to all of the AZ9s for surviving PST!). Things are changing. For many of us who have been in the country for a year, this is a time when we are evaluating what we have done, what we have learned, what we have accomplished. It’s very easy to get discouraged, and I’m no exception to that rule. There are days when things feel like they are dragging, that the students or teachers we work with haven’t learned anything; that everything is failing. But there are days here and there when someone surprises us, and our time here is justified; we are vindicated.
So here I am, closer to coming home than to arriving, and moving closer with every day. I'm closer to people than I was, and have been fortunate to form some very strong bonds with my host family, and a number of teachers, students, and other members of the community.
A part of me has to fight off the feeling that I have to do something to make my time here worthwhile. Write a grant, conduct some huge project, build something. That’s not for everyone, though my school periodically asks me what project I will conduct, what I will do for my permanent project. To be a success, I don’t need to leave a new school room or resource center, or have brought water to my village, as some volunteers in other countries do. I'm still not sure exactly what success is, though I know it must different for everyone, even for two volunteers in the same community.
I’m not sure what my plans are for the next year. I will wrap up the theater clubs I’m doing at school with a performance at the end of December, before I travel home for the first time, for Christmas and New Years. An aside—I feel like it was a long time in between arriving at site and Christmas, but of course it wasn’t, it won’t feel that way this year. There was just so much to take in and get used to in the three weeks between site arrival and Christmas that it felt like eons.
When I return from America, I will start several new clubs, though what their themes will be I haven’t decided yet. Health? Arts and crafts? Poetry writing? Sky’s the limit! I know that I will continue the work I have done outside of school, including an English club for teachers, and a TOEFL test preparation session. On top of that, I will continue to plan and work on the ABLE summer camp for next summer. I have a pile of books that I intend to read, DVDs to watch, and music to listen to, all of which I have postponed as I become distracted with new discoveries. I have a puppy to take care of, who needs attention and play, and something besides my fingers to chew on.
I hope to travel more in the country, to the north, to the south, to the east, to the west. There’s still a lot of Azerbaijan I haven’t seen yet, and even though Ismayilli’s a bit of a black hole, I should be able to find my way eventually. There’ll be a few more trips to Baku for Peace Corps conferences. I hope also to travel more outside of the country. I don’t know if I’ll ever make it back to this part of the world, so I’d love to check out our neighboring countries—really this means Georgia, as our other neighbors are Iran, Russia, the Caspian Sea, and the country that must not be named.
Beyond that, the next year is an open book. Here we go. Forgive all the I's in this post. It is after all, about me, or I.
So here I am, closer to coming home than to arriving, and moving closer with every day. I'm closer to people than I was, and have been fortunate to form some very strong bonds with my host family, and a number of teachers, students, and other members of the community.
A part of me has to fight off the feeling that I have to do something to make my time here worthwhile. Write a grant, conduct some huge project, build something. That’s not for everyone, though my school periodically asks me what project I will conduct, what I will do for my permanent project. To be a success, I don’t need to leave a new school room or resource center, or have brought water to my village, as some volunteers in other countries do. I'm still not sure exactly what success is, though I know it must different for everyone, even for two volunteers in the same community.
I’m not sure what my plans are for the next year. I will wrap up the theater clubs I’m doing at school with a performance at the end of December, before I travel home for the first time, for Christmas and New Years. An aside—I feel like it was a long time in between arriving at site and Christmas, but of course it wasn’t, it won’t feel that way this year. There was just so much to take in and get used to in the three weeks between site arrival and Christmas that it felt like eons.
When I return from America, I will start several new clubs, though what their themes will be I haven’t decided yet. Health? Arts and crafts? Poetry writing? Sky’s the limit! I know that I will continue the work I have done outside of school, including an English club for teachers, and a TOEFL test preparation session. On top of that, I will continue to plan and work on the ABLE summer camp for next summer. I have a pile of books that I intend to read, DVDs to watch, and music to listen to, all of which I have postponed as I become distracted with new discoveries. I have a puppy to take care of, who needs attention and play, and something besides my fingers to chew on.
I hope to travel more in the country, to the north, to the south, to the east, to the west. There’s still a lot of Azerbaijan I haven’t seen yet, and even though Ismayilli’s a bit of a black hole, I should be able to find my way eventually. There’ll be a few more trips to Baku for Peace Corps conferences. I hope also to travel more outside of the country. I don’t know if I’ll ever make it back to this part of the world, so I’d love to check out our neighboring countries—really this means Georgia, as our other neighbors are Iran, Russia, the Caspian Sea, and the country that must not be named.
Beyond that, the next year is an open book. Here we go. Forgive all the I's in this post. It is after all, about me, or I.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Goodbye November, Hello December
November drags to a close and I could not be happier. It’s been a pretty great month, all around, but as I sit here writing this, I am wrapped in blankets, wearing my long underwear once again. We made it though the first large snow, and gas levels rose, and my room was warm again. We got hit again, on Thanksgiving, which almost made it so I couldn’t get to Baku for our weekend Thanksgiving celebration.
The dinner, hosted at the charges d’affair (the second-in-command at the embassy)’s house, was absolutely. The cooking staff made us five huge turkeys, and we provided the rest. There were multiple gravies, mashed potatoes, rolls, stuffings, and tons of pies, cookies, and delicious desserts. After the meal, we had a talent show, though thankfully, participation was not mandatory (ha! Thankfully! Pun not intended when I started the sentence, but left in intentionally). Highlights included humorous excerpts from one volunteer’s diary from when she was 12, a ukulele song, and an original song about Azerbaijan to the tune of “We Didn’t Start the Fire.” Finally, we left our poor hosts alone, so they could have their house back to themselves, free from the rampant horde that is the volunteer community.
We spent the weekend hosted at the homes of embassy staff. I ended up staying with a family that had lived in Indonesia several years after my family did. They had two great children, who I and the other volunteer staying there had fun playing with. Their son and I in particular had a good time playing Star Wars, which sent me back to my own childhood obsession with the films. He was also a great help when it came time to bake my contribution to the Turkey Day feast, pomegranate and chocolate chip cookies. All in all, we were completely pampered, with heat, with hot showers, with mattresses, with delicious food—including homemade pizza, good wine, coffee. A huge thank you to them for opening up their homes to us.
Returning to Ismayilli was considerably easier than leaving, though I found that once again the gas was low, and snow and ice still covering the ground. Once more I find myself counting down until the gas will be turned up. December 5th. While I understand that it is strange for it to be this cold so early, it seems strange to me that the gas cannot be raised as needed, especially in a country that is making billions on gas and oil. But, there’s nothing I can do about it, so I will curl up with my puppy, read a book, and wait till December 5th arrives.
Speaking of books, another reason I’m looking forward to the end of the month is the end of NaNoWriMo. I guess this could be considered a successful failure. A failure, because I didn’t reach 50,000 words, the goal of NaNo writers. A success, I suppose, because I wrote something. I reached 25,552 words, just over halfway, and I content to be done with it. Writing every day is unsurprisingly difficult, and took a lot of motivation, reminding me of my great skills of procrastination and distraction, which I was unable to completely conquer, though I had some days of 3,000 words or more.
I don’t know if I will ever pick up the story again. Not because the story isn’t one that I like, but it was one that I never got particularly inspired by. When inspiration hits, the words flow out onto the paper, but when I force myself to write, as I did this past month, writing becomes a chore, not a pleasure.
The dinner, hosted at the charges d’affair (the second-in-command at the embassy)’s house, was absolutely. The cooking staff made us five huge turkeys, and we provided the rest. There were multiple gravies, mashed potatoes, rolls, stuffings, and tons of pies, cookies, and delicious desserts. After the meal, we had a talent show, though thankfully, participation was not mandatory (ha! Thankfully! Pun not intended when I started the sentence, but left in intentionally). Highlights included humorous excerpts from one volunteer’s diary from when she was 12, a ukulele song, and an original song about Azerbaijan to the tune of “We Didn’t Start the Fire.” Finally, we left our poor hosts alone, so they could have their house back to themselves, free from the rampant horde that is the volunteer community.
We spent the weekend hosted at the homes of embassy staff. I ended up staying with a family that had lived in Indonesia several years after my family did. They had two great children, who I and the other volunteer staying there had fun playing with. Their son and I in particular had a good time playing Star Wars, which sent me back to my own childhood obsession with the films. He was also a great help when it came time to bake my contribution to the Turkey Day feast, pomegranate and chocolate chip cookies. All in all, we were completely pampered, with heat, with hot showers, with mattresses, with delicious food—including homemade pizza, good wine, coffee. A huge thank you to them for opening up their homes to us.
Returning to Ismayilli was considerably easier than leaving, though I found that once again the gas was low, and snow and ice still covering the ground. Once more I find myself counting down until the gas will be turned up. December 5th. While I understand that it is strange for it to be this cold so early, it seems strange to me that the gas cannot be raised as needed, especially in a country that is making billions on gas and oil. But, there’s nothing I can do about it, so I will curl up with my puppy, read a book, and wait till December 5th arrives.
Speaking of books, another reason I’m looking forward to the end of the month is the end of NaNoWriMo. I guess this could be considered a successful failure. A failure, because I didn’t reach 50,000 words, the goal of NaNo writers. A success, I suppose, because I wrote something. I reached 25,552 words, just over halfway, and I content to be done with it. Writing every day is unsurprisingly difficult, and took a lot of motivation, reminding me of my great skills of procrastination and distraction, which I was unable to completely conquer, though I had some days of 3,000 words or more.
I don’t know if I will ever pick up the story again. Not because the story isn’t one that I like, but it was one that I never got particularly inspired by. When inspiration hits, the words flow out onto the paper, but when I force myself to write, as I did this past month, writing becomes a chore, not a pleasure.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Holidays, Goodbyes, and Snow
In the last few weeks, life here has changed pretty drastically. First, my site mate was medically evacuated, due to ongoing stomach issues. She has until early December to recover or she won’t be able to return. I have all the faith in her and her determination to return, though I am of course worried she won’t be healthy in time, and we’ve heard horror stories about people who were screwed by bureaucracy.
Shortly after she left on short notice, we learned that Ismayilli would not be receiving a new volunteer from the new group. This wasn’t entirely a surprise, but was definitely a bit disappointing. On top of that, my other site mate, a member of the group ahead of me, is finishing his service. So Ismayilli stands to get a bit lonelier.
Lifting my spirits, my host mother celebrated my birthday by baking a wonderful cake, with Hershey’s chocolate icing, and a special pumpkin plov dinner, which my site mate shared on one of his last nights in town. The one benefit of his departure is that I have come into some inheritance, mostly consisting of some great food packets and cooking supplies, as well as an electric blanket, which comes in handy on the days when gas is low. I’d rather continue to have a site mate, of course, but a water heater and better cooking utensils ain’t too shabby neither.
Right after my former site mate left for medical leave, we got a huge storm, which certainly took me by surprise. A foot and a half of snow, which knocked down many of the power lines along my road, since the trees still hadn’t lost many of their leaves. Winter was here, whether we liked it or not. Altogether, the power was out for about five days. While it was difficult with the sun setting so quickly, I got some good reading done. My host brother, Orxan, visited at the time, because it coincided with the Qurban holiday, otherwise known as Eid al-Ada. This holiday commemorates when Abraham nearly sacrificed his son, Isaac. It’s typical for wealthier families to sacrifice an animal—a turkey, a sheep, a cow, depending on their wealth—and donate the meat to those in need. As far as I could tell, my family did not donate any food, but we did sacrifice a turkey for plov, which was quite tasty. I’ve been watching the turkeys grow (and in some cases, helping to give them food and medicine), from tiny chicks to large ugly birds, practically asking to get eaten—they’re not always the friendliest of birds, though positively welcoming next to geese. Having Orxan here was nice, since I see far too little of him, and also because he had to clear the snow off the roofs instead of me. That’ll change when we get more snow later on.
The time off for Qurban was followed up the next week by fall break, meaning we only had school on Friday, and due to cold, no one showed up to clubs. Instead, a couple friends visited, so they could check out Lahic, the nearby mountain village. Once they learned my birthday was coming, they treated me to dinner one night, and also showed me how to make some homemade chocolate fondue. Who says Peace Corps has to be all suffering?
Shortly after she left on short notice, we learned that Ismayilli would not be receiving a new volunteer from the new group. This wasn’t entirely a surprise, but was definitely a bit disappointing. On top of that, my other site mate, a member of the group ahead of me, is finishing his service. So Ismayilli stands to get a bit lonelier.
Lifting my spirits, my host mother celebrated my birthday by baking a wonderful cake, with Hershey’s chocolate icing, and a special pumpkin plov dinner, which my site mate shared on one of his last nights in town. The one benefit of his departure is that I have come into some inheritance, mostly consisting of some great food packets and cooking supplies, as well as an electric blanket, which comes in handy on the days when gas is low. I’d rather continue to have a site mate, of course, but a water heater and better cooking utensils ain’t too shabby neither.
Right after my former site mate left for medical leave, we got a huge storm, which certainly took me by surprise. A foot and a half of snow, which knocked down many of the power lines along my road, since the trees still hadn’t lost many of their leaves. Winter was here, whether we liked it or not. Altogether, the power was out for about five days. While it was difficult with the sun setting so quickly, I got some good reading done. My host brother, Orxan, visited at the time, because it coincided with the Qurban holiday, otherwise known as Eid al-Ada. This holiday commemorates when Abraham nearly sacrificed his son, Isaac. It’s typical for wealthier families to sacrifice an animal—a turkey, a sheep, a cow, depending on their wealth—and donate the meat to those in need. As far as I could tell, my family did not donate any food, but we did sacrifice a turkey for plov, which was quite tasty. I’ve been watching the turkeys grow (and in some cases, helping to give them food and medicine), from tiny chicks to large ugly birds, practically asking to get eaten—they’re not always the friendliest of birds, though positively welcoming next to geese. Having Orxan here was nice, since I see far too little of him, and also because he had to clear the snow off the roofs instead of me. That’ll change when we get more snow later on.
The time off for Qurban was followed up the next week by fall break, meaning we only had school on Friday, and due to cold, no one showed up to clubs. Instead, a couple friends visited, so they could check out Lahic, the nearby mountain village. Once they learned my birthday was coming, they treated me to dinner one night, and also showed me how to make some homemade chocolate fondue. Who says Peace Corps has to be all suffering?
Sunday, November 6, 2011
NaNo Update
One of the simultaneously most encouraging and depressing things about writing for NaNoWriMo and keeping the website updated on my progress is that it has a page with a lovely little progress bar, and as you add more words, the bar is filled in more and more. Below that, are stats concerning your writing progress. This includes my average words per day, words remaining, words per day to finish on time, and the worst figure, "At this Rate, You Will Finish By," which currently depressingly reads December 27th, 2011. To top this off is a bar/line graph which shows how many words I've written every day, compared to the target words per day to meet the goal.
What this page and the figures don't show is that I restarted my essay a couple days in, and had reached over 2,000 words before throwing in the towel on that story. So really, NaNo, I've written 7,000 words...which is still 3,000 short of where I should be. Patooie. Is it too soon to start looking for excuses? Like the fact that we've been treating a sick puppy?
No, it is not the time for excuses, because we're entering the best part of the month, Qurban Bayram, or Eid al-Ada, meaning no school Monday or Tuesday, and Flag Day on Wednesday, and next week there's only school on Friday the 18th thanks to autumn break. So plenty of time to catch up. Plenty of time to get those taunting graphs to start looking a little friendlier.
What this page and the figures don't show is that I restarted my essay a couple days in, and had reached over 2,000 words before throwing in the towel on that story. So really, NaNo, I've written 7,000 words...which is still 3,000 short of where I should be. Patooie. Is it too soon to start looking for excuses? Like the fact that we've been treating a sick puppy?
No, it is not the time for excuses, because we're entering the best part of the month, Qurban Bayram, or Eid al-Ada, meaning no school Monday or Tuesday, and Flag Day on Wednesday, and next week there's only school on Friday the 18th thanks to autumn break. So plenty of time to catch up. Plenty of time to get those taunting graphs to start looking a little friendlier.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
NaNoWriMo
This coming month, I will attempt to embark on a quest. The quest of National Novel Writing Month, NaNoWriMo. I will have 30 days to write 50,000 words. Hopefully I won't go crazy in the process trying to juggle Peace Corps responsibilities, clubs, reading, and general personal life at the same time. This should also be interesting because I recently took a small chunk out of my left pointer finger and consequently am typing this with nine fingers. Maybe that's my novel! No, no it isn't.
Why am I doing this? For fun, mostly, and to see if I can. Also, one of the easy to fall back on uses of time in Peace Corps in watching movies and TV shows. I know it wouldn't seem that way, but with Internet in the house, and portable hard drives being shared all over the place, the PC life can be overwhelming with media. Hopefully, writing a full length novel and posting it online (irony noted), I'll be able to make myself take a bit of a break.
So, let the words begin! The game is a-word! Insert your writing pun here.
Why am I doing this? For fun, mostly, and to see if I can. Also, one of the easy to fall back on uses of time in Peace Corps in watching movies and TV shows. I know it wouldn't seem that way, but with Internet in the house, and portable hard drives being shared all over the place, the PC life can be overwhelming with media. Hopefully, writing a full length novel and posting it online (irony noted), I'll be able to make myself take a bit of a break.
So, let the words begin! The game is a-word! Insert your writing pun here.
Losing a Friend
This past week, my host family's puppy, Bucky (short for Buckingham, from The Three Musketeers) passed away. This was a sudden passing, which started at the end of the week before, when Bucky stopped eating, and anything that was forcibly given would come right back up. We were baffled, and the local vet was only able to diagnose it as dog "plague." I'm translating, but it's either dog plague or dog pestilence, according to my dictionary, and neither option is particularly informative as a diagnosis. Our main theory is that he ate something that effectively was poisonous to his system, and we were unable to get him to a proper vet in time. By the time when we realized he really needed it, I think he would have required an IV and blood work, which we could not have afforded.
Still, Bucky was my baby. Against my host family's reservations he was even known to sleep inside. Pause for gasp. I've been fortunate in my pet ownership that my family's dogs have all been long-lived. Our first dog, Beauregard, lived until I was in elementary school, and our next dog, Maggie, died when I was abroad in India. Now we have Lucy. Our other pets have not lasted as long, including some fish that made the mistake of living in elementary school me's bedroom when I and my friends enjoyed jumping on beds while playing catch. My mom still remembers the water gushing out onto the carpet floor.
I was expecting my host parents to take a more traditionally non-Western attitude towards animals, that they are animals and should be treated as such, not as family members. But my host mother was very upset at the loss, and mourned him over tea that night. My host father helped my dig the grave, and though he made a point of saying that animals don't get funerals, I think he realized he might have been a bit insensitive to how I was feeling, because later that evening, he came to me explaining that you do not have to treat animals that way, or wish them to heaven, because God automatically absolves them (the same goes for kids, apparently). I knew he cared because he clearly looked up both "absolve" and "sin." Thank you, Ata.
Thank you, Bucky, for making my life happy for the five months you were a part of it. Maybe you chewed on my fingers too much, but I will miss you. You were a great little buddy. I hope that in whatever dog heaven you're in, you're happy.
Still, Bucky was my baby. Against my host family's reservations he was even known to sleep inside. Pause for gasp. I've been fortunate in my pet ownership that my family's dogs have all been long-lived. Our first dog, Beauregard, lived until I was in elementary school, and our next dog, Maggie, died when I was abroad in India. Now we have Lucy. Our other pets have not lasted as long, including some fish that made the mistake of living in elementary school me's bedroom when I and my friends enjoyed jumping on beds while playing catch. My mom still remembers the water gushing out onto the carpet floor.
I was expecting my host parents to take a more traditionally non-Western attitude towards animals, that they are animals and should be treated as such, not as family members. But my host mother was very upset at the loss, and mourned him over tea that night. My host father helped my dig the grave, and though he made a point of saying that animals don't get funerals, I think he realized he might have been a bit insensitive to how I was feeling, because later that evening, he came to me explaining that you do not have to treat animals that way, or wish them to heaven, because God automatically absolves them (the same goes for kids, apparently). I knew he cared because he clearly looked up both "absolve" and "sin." Thank you, Ata.
Thank you, Bucky, for making my life happy for the five months you were a part of it. Maybe you chewed on my fingers too much, but I will miss you. You were a great little buddy. I hope that in whatever dog heaven you're in, you're happy.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Tigers at the Bat
The Ismayilli Tigers spilled out of the bus yesterday evening, tired but happy. They had just returned from their first full tournament as a team.
We left for Kurdamir at 8:30 that morning, and managed to survive one of the bumpiest roads around, a road so bad only one driver was willing to take us, with a couple stops for kids to make mad dashes to the nearest ditch. Along the way, as we would pass herds of sheep and goats, kids would call out the names they knew in English, and ask about words they didn't. At the same time, the driver of course had the radio blaring. Once we hit the main highway, things evened out and I was able to read a little, collecting myself before we arrived.
The Kurdamir stadium lies to the south of the main roundabout, where we had played (American) football Christmas Day. The kids hid behind the bleachers to change clothing, and then came out ready to play.
Our first game was against Xachmaz (a town in the northeast of the country, near the Caspian Sea). The Tigers batted first, driving in four runs, almost reaching the mercy rule (five run per inning limit). Still a little rusty in the field, they let three runs the first inning. This was especially impressive since they were pitching themselves for the first time, something I had not prepared them for, but surprised them with as the other teams were planning to pitch. Trial by fire in the Land of Fire.
In the second inning, both teams hit the mercy rule switch, and in the final inning, Xachmaz managed to pull ahead. The Tigers had one last chance to retake the lead, but the game ended on a rule misunderstanding--one boy hit a pop up that was caught for an out, and then threw to the bases that the Ismayilli boys had abdicated before they could return. Final score: 12-11
The second game was a pitcher's duel against Goychay, our nearest team, though this was our first match. This was the height of their fielding for the day, and the game ended at 4-3. Again, they almost staged a comeback, but a pop up ended the game once more.
Finally, the Tigers took on the Goranboy team (from the west, near Mingachavir), which has recently had to start over basically from scratch with very few old-overs from previous years. They were the only team to have girls on the team, at least as far as I saw, something I hope will become a larger trend across the country. The boys’ bats came alive, driving in 10 runs to Goranboy’s four. This was a huge win for them, after the two disappointing losses, and there was much rejoicing.
Sadly, we never played the home Kurdamir team, a team made up entirely of IDPs, or Internally Displaced Persons, a special project focus for Todd in forming the team. Not so sadly, we also missed out on playing the Bilasuvar team, which has managed to thoroughly beat all the teams they’ve faced. They’re an intense team that could teach our kids a lot, they’re just not ready for that lesson just yet.
The only major hitch came when two boys on the team got into a skuffle, after one made some joke at the other’s expense. The tussle resulted in bloody noses, and a one game suspension courtesy of yours truly. Today at practice, it led to some questions about what happens when there are fights in the major leagues (they’ve been checking out youtube, I’m guessing), and will continue to discussions about teamwork and respect.
Huge thanks go out to Todd and Sarah, the Kurdamir volunteers, for hosting us, as well as to the team captains of all the other teams, and to the boys and girls from throughout the country who came out with their game faces on and their bats and gloves at the ready. We’ve got one more definite tournament, in two weeks in Baku, and until then, we’ve got our work cut out for us.
We left for Kurdamir at 8:30 that morning, and managed to survive one of the bumpiest roads around, a road so bad only one driver was willing to take us, with a couple stops for kids to make mad dashes to the nearest ditch. Along the way, as we would pass herds of sheep and goats, kids would call out the names they knew in English, and ask about words they didn't. At the same time, the driver of course had the radio blaring. Once we hit the main highway, things evened out and I was able to read a little, collecting myself before we arrived.
The Kurdamir stadium lies to the south of the main roundabout, where we had played (American) football Christmas Day. The kids hid behind the bleachers to change clothing, and then came out ready to play.
Our first game was against Xachmaz (a town in the northeast of the country, near the Caspian Sea). The Tigers batted first, driving in four runs, almost reaching the mercy rule (five run per inning limit). Still a little rusty in the field, they let three runs the first inning. This was especially impressive since they were pitching themselves for the first time, something I had not prepared them for, but surprised them with as the other teams were planning to pitch. Trial by fire in the Land of Fire.
In the second inning, both teams hit the mercy rule switch, and in the final inning, Xachmaz managed to pull ahead. The Tigers had one last chance to retake the lead, but the game ended on a rule misunderstanding--one boy hit a pop up that was caught for an out, and then threw to the bases that the Ismayilli boys had abdicated before they could return. Final score: 12-11
The second game was a pitcher's duel against Goychay, our nearest team, though this was our first match. This was the height of their fielding for the day, and the game ended at 4-3. Again, they almost staged a comeback, but a pop up ended the game once more.
Finally, the Tigers took on the Goranboy team (from the west, near Mingachavir), which has recently had to start over basically from scratch with very few old-overs from previous years. They were the only team to have girls on the team, at least as far as I saw, something I hope will become a larger trend across the country. The boys’ bats came alive, driving in 10 runs to Goranboy’s four. This was a huge win for them, after the two disappointing losses, and there was much rejoicing.
Sadly, we never played the home Kurdamir team, a team made up entirely of IDPs, or Internally Displaced Persons, a special project focus for Todd in forming the team. Not so sadly, we also missed out on playing the Bilasuvar team, which has managed to thoroughly beat all the teams they’ve faced. They’re an intense team that could teach our kids a lot, they’re just not ready for that lesson just yet.
The only major hitch came when two boys on the team got into a skuffle, after one made some joke at the other’s expense. The tussle resulted in bloody noses, and a one game suspension courtesy of yours truly. Today at practice, it led to some questions about what happens when there are fights in the major leagues (they’ve been checking out youtube, I’m guessing), and will continue to discussions about teamwork and respect.
Huge thanks go out to Todd and Sarah, the Kurdamir volunteers, for hosting us, as well as to the team captains of all the other teams, and to the boys and girls from throughout the country who came out with their game faces on and their bats and gloves at the ready. We’ve got one more definite tournament, in two weeks in Baku, and until then, we’ve got our work cut out for us.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
One Day, One Year, Ten Years, Fifty
This month marked four milestones.
September 24, 2011. The day the new group of Peace Corps Volunteers arrives in Baku. Their journey begins now, as they land in a strange new world. Who will these new people be? All we know about them, and all they know about us and about Azerbiajan is what they’ve read online, on Facebook, and in the Peace Corps electronic media. Now it’s real.
September 23, 2011. The one-year anniversary of my group’s departure from Philadelphia. A year ago, we spent the night in a hotel in Philadelphia, and said our painful goodbyes. We met each other for the very first time, and sat through our first of what would be many Peace Corps conferences. Buses carried us to New York, and we flew, through Germany, to our new homes.
We were all strangers then, unsure of each other, and of ourselves. Since then, we’ve lost people. Some right away, some were surprises, some foreseeable. They are missed, because even though they are gone now, they were and are part of our group identity.
And we’ve gained people. Not new volunteers (until now), but we’ve gained new staff members, new connections, and new friends.
I remember the first salty cheeses, the first plov (though we didn’t know to call it that then), the first PCVs I met at the hotel. Meeting our LCFs for the first time. We spent week in that hotel, only able to glimpse this new land over a wall and beyond a highway, before we were dropped at our host families’, completely unaware who would be dropped next. I remember the months of dolma sandwiches, the months of four-hour-a-day language lessons, mostly filled with venting and talking about certain movements inappropriate for polite conversation.
The past year has been a strange one. I’ve lived with two wonderful but very different families in two very different towns. Met some great kids. Met some real stinkers, too (I’m looking at you, snowball throwing brats). I’ve had wildly happy and fulfilling days, and other days when I wanted no one to talk to me or else I would snap. They say the highs are higher and the lows lower, and darn it, they mean it.
September 11, 2011. Ten years ago, you know what happened. Our generation’s JFK’s assassination: the event when everyone knows where they were. I had just gotten home from Boy Scouts. It was nighttime, which I enjoy telling people, since they’re always confused for a moment. It was nighttime, because we were in Jakarta, Indonesia. Ten years later, I am once more on the other side of the world (only nine hours difference in stead of 12 this time!). It is nighttime again. Ten years is a nice round number, but have ten years given us closure on the events of 9/11? I don’t feel particularly safer, or for that matter, in any more danger. I did not know anyone who died in those attacks. Instead, the attack that struck closer to home was a bombing at a nightclub on the island of Bali, in Indonesia in 2002. I flew out of the Bali airport the morning before the attack, and a teacher from the school I attended, JIS, was killed in the attack. That attack wasn’t targeting Americans, but Australians. But I still remember, instead of watching the memorial concert in New York (the soundtrack to which I do own), sitting in our school auditorium listening to John Lennon’s “Imagine,” and watching a montage of the lost teacher’s life.
September 22, 2011. Fifty years ago, Congress authorized JFK’s Executive Order 10924 which he had issued in March. It’s strange to realize that I wouldn’t be here without that event that happened twenty-six years before I was born. I would not have heard about Peace Corps from my parents, who both served, and would not be here in Azerbaijan myself.
Without a speech 50 years ago at a college on the campaign trail, the other milestones, milestones that have drastically influenced my life and where I am today, would not have happened. There would not be a group of PCVs preparing to return home, another gearing up for their second year in country, and another group starting out on a brand new journey in Azerbaijan. Without that speech, there wouldn't have been over 200,000 volunteers worldwide. Hooray for JFK encouraging all us draft dodgers and idealist hippies to go out into the world to try something new.
September 24, 2011. The day the new group of Peace Corps Volunteers arrives in Baku. Their journey begins now, as they land in a strange new world. Who will these new people be? All we know about them, and all they know about us and about Azerbiajan is what they’ve read online, on Facebook, and in the Peace Corps electronic media. Now it’s real.
September 23, 2011. The one-year anniversary of my group’s departure from Philadelphia. A year ago, we spent the night in a hotel in Philadelphia, and said our painful goodbyes. We met each other for the very first time, and sat through our first of what would be many Peace Corps conferences. Buses carried us to New York, and we flew, through Germany, to our new homes.
We were all strangers then, unsure of each other, and of ourselves. Since then, we’ve lost people. Some right away, some were surprises, some foreseeable. They are missed, because even though they are gone now, they were and are part of our group identity.
And we’ve gained people. Not new volunteers (until now), but we’ve gained new staff members, new connections, and new friends.
I remember the first salty cheeses, the first plov (though we didn’t know to call it that then), the first PCVs I met at the hotel. Meeting our LCFs for the first time. We spent week in that hotel, only able to glimpse this new land over a wall and beyond a highway, before we were dropped at our host families’, completely unaware who would be dropped next. I remember the months of dolma sandwiches, the months of four-hour-a-day language lessons, mostly filled with venting and talking about certain movements inappropriate for polite conversation.
The past year has been a strange one. I’ve lived with two wonderful but very different families in two very different towns. Met some great kids. Met some real stinkers, too (I’m looking at you, snowball throwing brats). I’ve had wildly happy and fulfilling days, and other days when I wanted no one to talk to me or else I would snap. They say the highs are higher and the lows lower, and darn it, they mean it.
September 11, 2011. Ten years ago, you know what happened. Our generation’s JFK’s assassination: the event when everyone knows where they were. I had just gotten home from Boy Scouts. It was nighttime, which I enjoy telling people, since they’re always confused for a moment. It was nighttime, because we were in Jakarta, Indonesia. Ten years later, I am once more on the other side of the world (only nine hours difference in stead of 12 this time!). It is nighttime again. Ten years is a nice round number, but have ten years given us closure on the events of 9/11? I don’t feel particularly safer, or for that matter, in any more danger. I did not know anyone who died in those attacks. Instead, the attack that struck closer to home was a bombing at a nightclub on the island of Bali, in Indonesia in 2002. I flew out of the Bali airport the morning before the attack, and a teacher from the school I attended, JIS, was killed in the attack. That attack wasn’t targeting Americans, but Australians. But I still remember, instead of watching the memorial concert in New York (the soundtrack to which I do own), sitting in our school auditorium listening to John Lennon’s “Imagine,” and watching a montage of the lost teacher’s life.
September 22, 2011. Fifty years ago, Congress authorized JFK’s Executive Order 10924 which he had issued in March. It’s strange to realize that I wouldn’t be here without that event that happened twenty-six years before I was born. I would not have heard about Peace Corps from my parents, who both served, and would not be here in Azerbaijan myself.
Without a speech 50 years ago at a college on the campaign trail, the other milestones, milestones that have drastically influenced my life and where I am today, would not have happened. There would not be a group of PCVs preparing to return home, another gearing up for their second year in country, and another group starting out on a brand new journey in Azerbaijan. Without that speech, there wouldn't have been over 200,000 volunteers worldwide. Hooray for JFK encouraging all us draft dodgers and idealist hippies to go out into the world to try something new.
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